One Day They'll Know
by CheckeredLove
Summary: Mental disorders are some of the biggest killers in America. This is accurate as well in the 'quiet', redneck mountain town of South Park as well. Though isn't it amazing what a smile can hide? Inspiration: One Day They'll Know - Pretty Lights (Odesza Remix); Trigger Warning: eating disorders, self-harm, etc.; may be considered OOC
1. Chapter 1: Oblivion

A/N: I've been wanting to start this story for a really long time now & I finally got around to doing it :) Anywho~let's get to it! I don't own South Park, enjoy!

WARNING: This story may be considered OOC, so please don't tell me that I wrote the characters wrong. Either way, OOC characters will be explained, so follow if you want to know why the character may be acting different :) Thanks~

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: Oblivion<p>

"...a dull sun rises up to the sky, mixing into a mess of gray clouds. Just another morning, another day. Another day where no one knows anything. Sure there's science and math, politics, ecetera. Though the real mysteries in life are undiscovered. What's next? What happens after these few decades we walk around, skin over fat, muscle and bones, waiting to die? Maybe that's a bleak perspective, but it's the honest truth. What point is there to truely live when we're all destined to be forgotten? Only the true heroes are remembered, and even still constantly forgotten. Do you honestly think about Jesus having nails hammered into his arms while you down a sprite and watch the new Fast and Furious movie? Or about Lincoln freeing the slaves when you're buying that new size zero dress for prom that you'll 'lose weight to fit into'? The theme of life: oblivion. And how we're all destined for it. You can try as damn hard as you please, though whether you sit on your three hundred pound ass eating cheese poofs or finding the solution to global warming, no one's going to remember your name."

There was a silence in the room so quiet a dropped pin could be heard. The eyes of the teens darted awkwardly, before the teacher cleared his throat. "Alright. Um, thank you Kenny. You can sit now."

Kenny sighed and slumped back to his seat, fixing his hood back over his head, trying to hide his messy blonde locks under it.

Kenny snarled as he sat in his desk, reading over the pencil written graffiti he had read hundreds of times while the brainless morons in his class read their seventh grade level essays on Shakespeare. At least he took a risk. No one else ever seemed to try.

"Jesus, Kenny." He heard Clyde sigh behind himself as the teacher called Eric to go next, much to his discontent. "Lighten up."

Kenny grimaced, as the teacher called for Eric to go next, much to his discontent. A few years back Kenny might've fought back to ignorance or criticism. Though now he found it was better to keep his mouth shut and stay out of everyone's way. People preferred him this way and it was easier for people to walk all over him. They would either way.

Clyde snarled back to the grimace he received though. The brunette then turned back to carving _asslickers_ into the ten year old wooden desk.

The class got to listen to Eric argue with the teacher to buy himself more time, before the bell rang and the two hundred-something pound negotiator sprinted from the literature class.

Kenny followed slowly behind, hands in his pockets. Stan hustled to catch up to him.

"Hey, dude."

Kenny's bad mood seemed to be lifted when he noticed the bright smile on his friend's face. "Hey, Stanley."

Stan sighed, as he moved his arm to link with Kenny's. "Don't call me that."

"I'm sorry," Kenny smirked, his dimples barely noticeable in the mess of freckles sprinkled all over his face. "But I like to call people by their full names. It's more genuine."

Stan sighed, leaning his head against Kenny's shoulder. "Maybe. But Stanley isn't really fitting for me, is it?"

"Sort of." Kenny and Stan both turned to walk into the hall full of lockers and teenagers. "Though I suppose Stan _is_ a bit more fittin', huh?"

Stan nodded, as both he and Kenny moved to stuff their books in their lockers.

"Hey guys," Kyle sighed, groaning as he lazily moved from the doorway of his calculas class to his locker next to Stan's.

He groaned and tried to yank open the locker after turning the knob, hitting his head against it as he failed.

"Let me do it." Kenny smirked, as he pushed Kyle aside.

"Thanks, Ken."

As the southern blonde opened the locker, he took Kyle's books from him and stuffed them in the locker before shutting it back. "No problem."

Eric soon strolled up next to them. "Hey, fags."

Stan rolled his eyes, Kenny laughed, and Kyle tried to snarl though was interrupted when he almost fell backwards into the trash can.

Stan and Kenny caught him in time, though, and pulled him to lean against the lockers.

"The hell's wrong with you?" Eric asked, more interested in texting his mother to ask what was for dinner.

"I stayed up late finishing that damn history project." Kyle yawned, trying to keep his green eyes open.

"Well, try and stay awake until we're on the bus. You can sleep there." Stan smirked, rubbing Kyle's back.

Kyle shook his head and yawned again. "I've got basketball practice, dude."

"Oh," Stan frowned. "Well you could tell the coach you're sick."

Kyle chuckled. "Only if I was in a hospital bed."

Stan sighed. "I know. He'd never let you."

"And my parents wouldn't either." Kyle sighed, stretching his arms as the bell rang. "I'll see you guys later."

The three left watched as Kyle walked away and they then started walking to their bus, only to be stopped by their chorus teacher. He'd been struggling to get kids to join. So far, it was Pip and Bebe, neither of which could sing.

"Hello boys!" He smiled at them, sheet music in one hand and baton in the other. "Would you be interested in joining chorus?"

The three exchanged glances, as if they were actually considered it, before Stan answered for all of them, "No thanks."

Before the teacher could attempt to persuade them, they pushed past him and down the hall, out of the door.

"He needs to find someone that actually enjoys singing," Eric started, still tapping his thumbs on the screen on his phone. "And hassle them."

"Tell me about it." Stan sighed.

They expected a clever answer from Kenny, but the Southern blonde was speechless. He would've been motionless had it not been for waving back at a passing Butters.

They waited outside for the bus and watched as it finally rolled in front of them. They hopped up the steps and into their usual seats. Stan in the first seat, which he would normally share with Kyle; Eric in the second by himself, as he could barely fit on the seat without someone else being pressed against the window; and Kenny in the last, waiting for his older brother to sit next to him.

It didn't take him long.

"Hey kiddo." Kevin smirked, as he plopped down next to his little brother. "How was your day?"

Kenny smirked. "Okay."

"Good."

Kevin then proceeded to talk to Shelly and another senior in the seat behind himself and Kenny.

Kenny turned back to his friends to see Eric scarfing down a bag of cheesy poofs.

Kenny sighed. "So, how's that diet goin', Eric?"

Stan chuckled and Kenny smirked, as Eric flung a cheesy poof at him.

"You know," Kenny started, trying his best to avoid an awkward silence. "Sometimes I think Kyle works himself too hard."

"With basketball?" Stan asked.

"Yes. And everythin' else, as well." Kenny sighed. "I mean, have you two even spent any time together recently?"

Stan shrugged. "Not really."

"You guys used to spend every waking moment together. He needs to take it easy."

"Yeah." Stan sighed. "But you know how he is. He feels the need to be perfect or whatever."

"It's just in the Jew's nature." Eric sighed, using his cheesy fingers to scrape crumbs out of his empty chip bag.

Normally Stan would've defended his friend's religion, but he was tired of Eric and Kenny laughing too loud to even hear his argument. Either that or some joke about how he was sticking up for his 'boyfriend'.

"Not gonna stick up for your boyfriend, Stanny?" Eric asked.

"It sounds too true to attempt to argue."

"Haven't I been telling you?" Eric chuckled, as he pulled a sugar-filled soda from his bag.

"Jesus Christ," Kenny sighed, as Eric downed half the drink in one go. "Take your time on that heart attack."

Stan laughed and Eric did nothing but flip off the Southern blonde before the bus stopped on Avenue de Los Mexicanos, their street.

The three of them hopped off, Shelly and Kevin behind them and walking to the McCormick residence, and the boys walked to Stan's house.

"I'm home." Stan called, seeing his dad plopped on the couch with a beer in hand and the channel was Food Network.

"Dad!" Stan yelled angrily, as he stomped over to the TV and turned it off. "Mom said you're not allowed to watch that channel anymore."

Randy scoffed. "Whatever."

The forty year old mess then stomped away and up the stairs, leaving the TV to the boys.

Eric and Kenny practically fell onto the couch, letting out happy sighs, as Stan moved to turn the TV back on.

He grabbed the remote and settled in between his two friends.

"Jesus Christ," Stan sighed, as he watched a middle-aged women pull a turkey out of an oven. "What the hell is so appealing about this anyway?"

"Who knows..." Kenny sighed, as he snatched the remote from Stan. "I guess it's like a fetish or somethin'. Maybe your parents should try honey or-"

"That's enough." Stan interrupted, holding the bridge of his nose. "I don't need that picture in my mind."

Kenny and Eric both laughed, as Kenny changed the channel to Dr. Phil.

"Really?" Eric asked, brunette eyebrow raised.

"You picked yesterday." Kenny defended his choice. "Plus I know Stanny likes Dr. Phil. Right?"

Stan chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, well, it's better than Honey Boo Boo."

"That show is educational, dibsticks." Eric sighed, putting his feet on the coffee table.

"How is it educational?" Stan asked, as he pushed his overweight friend's feet back to the floor.

"It's showing you what will happen if we don't stop the childhood obsesity crisis."

"Oh really?" Kenny smirked, as he leaned over and poked Eric's belly.

"See? I'm a lost cause." Eric sighed, wiping away a fake tear.

Kenny smirked. "No way, dude. You're okay just the way you are."

"Wow, thanks."

After Eric and Kenny exchanged eye rolls, the three focused on the program.

On the screen with Dr. Phil was a woman suffering from anorexia. Her cheek and collarbones were prominent, and she wore a jacket overtop a sweater to stay warm.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Phil asked.

"Like a bother...an embarrassment...and I'm a big, fat failure!" The woman answered, breaking into tears.

Stan watched intently, instantly feeling horrible as the woman sobbed. Though he began to feel better once he scanned her body. Small thighs, small waist...small everything. A considerably big part of Stan thought she looked amazing. He knew he shouldn't though.

"Stanley?" Stan's mom called, as she walked into the living room. "What do you want for dinner, sweetheart?"

Stan shrugged, not moving his glance from the television. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, I didn't say you had to eat it now." Sharon sighed, re-tying the knot on her apron.

Stan sighed. "It doesn't matter to me. Ask Dad."

Sharon sighed, as she walked up the stairs to find her husband.

The boys heard her yell something about the food channel from upstairs.

"Jesus Christ." Stan sighed, as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Kyle's textin' you, dude." Kenny smirked, shifting his glance to Stan's pocket.

"You don't know its Kyle." Stan said.

"Yeah I do."

"But he's at practice."

"Who else would be texting you?" Eric chimed in.

Stan frowned and glared at him. "It's not like Kyle's my only friend."

"No." Eric chuckled. "But I don't have my phone in my hand and neither does Kenny."

"Shut up."

Sure enough, it was Kyle.

_Hey dude :)_

_Hey. What's up?_

_Not much. We got a break 4 once_

_Wow. Is your coach sick?_

_I wish. Maybe I shouldn't say that tho_

_Do you feel better?_

_Yeah, I'm fine now. Guess I was in a tired mood or something_

_U need 2 learn to like coffee_

_Ew. That's like asking me 2 learn to like bananas_

_Coffee is a liquid_

_And bananas r a solid. What's ur point?_

_You can add milk to it & stuff_

_Well you can add peanut butter to bananas and that doesn't make them taste any better_

_What's even wrong with ur taste buds_

_How can u like bananas they're slimy and gross_

_I like everything _

_Except meat_

_I like meat i just can't eat it_

_I hope u dont break out in vaginas again xD_

_Well I've done it for two years now, I think I'm good_

_Be careful u little dork. I gotta go_

_Come over l8r?_

_Sure_

_K later_

_See u_

Stan sighed as he laid down his phone.

"It was Kyle, right?" Kenny asked, already knowing as he had read the conversion over Stan's shoulder.

"Yeah, genius." Stan smirked, lying his head on Kenny's shoulder.

They then returned to watching Dr. Phil. The woman on the screen now sobbed as Dr. Phil handed her a tissue.

"I don't want to be this!" The woman cried. "I don't want to wake up every morning and not eat breakfast! i don't want to exercise until my legs give out! And I don't want to weight sixty five damn pounds!"

"How much do you want to weigh?" Dr. Phil asks, being professional enough not to look at the camera dramatically.

"Well I want to be a healthy weight..."

"But?"

"The Anorexic side wants to weight fourty, o-or...maybe thirty..."

As Dr. Phil went on to stress about how she will die, Kenny sighed.

"That's crazy." The Southern blonde shook his head. "I'm amazed she hasn't died yet."

Stan nodded, not hearing what Kenny had said. He was too focused on learning how she went from one hundred thirty five pounds to sixty five.

"I don't why she doesn't just eat." Eric said, brushing his fingers through his tangled hair. "It's not like she doesn't know she'll die."

Stan snarled, snapping his head in Eric's direction. "It's not that simple fatass."

Eric was taken aback, but shrugged it off. "Whatever, string bean."

They quickly dropped the subject, both knowing it would quickly get out of hand if they didn't.

Kenny however kept his focus on Stan, as the noirette's focus was glued to the screen again.

A million thoughts shot through Kenny's mind at that moment, though he wasn't really sure what to think. The only thought he could fathom was, _When was the last time I saw him eat?__  
><em>

* * *

><p>AN: So, I hoped you guys liked it! I'll try & update soon! Please review & follow if you did like it! Love you guys!


	2. Chapter 2: A World of His Own

A/N: I was really excited to see I got a lot of reviews for the last chapter! Thank you, guys! :) Anywho~hopefully this update didn't take too long! I don't own South Park, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 2: A World of His Own<p>

"Stuart, get the hell outta here!" Carol McCormick screamed, holding a crying Karen in her arms.

"Why don't you make me, bitch?" The drunkard Stuart McCormick yelled with slurred words as he span around in a wasted haze.

"Don't call her a bitch, ya fat douche bag!" Kevin yelled, throwing a stained pillow from their broken couch at his father.

Stuart screeched back at his oldest, eighteen year old son as his younger, fifteen year old son stood in the corner. Kenny was helpless and didn't know what to do.

He wanted to call the police, though never did due to the fear of either having his mom taken away along with his drunkard dad or being separated from Kevin and Karen. He couldn't stand the thought of either and therefore refused to risk it.

"You think you're man enough to take me, you little piece of shit?" Stuart snarled at Kevin, who had just thrown a discarded soda can at his dad.

"Well you're actin' like a fuckin' child, so I'm pretty sure I could kick your ass!"

Kenny shook his head in horror as Stuart came at Kevin. The blonde watched as his older brother threw a fist that collided with his dad's unshaven face.

Stuart did the same, though his fist hit Kevin's eye.

Kevin tumbled backwards and onto the floor. Stuart chuckled almost evilly as he leaned over Kevin with one foot risen from the floor.

"Don't step on him, daddy!" Karen cried, trying to break away from Carol's grasp.

"Stuart you better get away from my baby!" Carol cried, tears ready to fall as she tried to get around the furniture to stop her husband.

Though before she could, Kenny had already thrown an empty bottle at Stuart's head.

"Don't fucking touch him!" Kenny screeched, blue eyes flaring.

"Stay outta this!" Stuart screamed, as he threw the bottle back at Kenny.

To Carol's horror, she watched the bottle hit her son's freckled face. Kenny was knocked over and when he stood up again, his right eye was bruised and black.

"Stuart I swear to God if you don't get out right now, I'm gonna call the damn cops! Get out!" Carol screamed, pushing Karen into Kenny's arms and lunging at her husband with her fists up.

"They'll take you with me, bitch!"

"Damn it, I said don't call her that!" Kevin yelled from the floor. He then picked up the forgotten beer bottle and threw it with all his might.

The rest of the McCormick family watched the bottle smash and shatter when it hit Stuart's head.

And then down the beast fell hard onto the floor, snoring less than a minute after it had happened.

Carol sighed and wiped tears from her face. She wanted to apologize to her kids, she wanted to kick the son of a bitch on the floor out, she wanted to call the police. Though instead she stumbled to her room and fell on bed to sleep. Enough had happened tonight.

After watching his mother give up, Kenny put Karen down on her feet and helped Kevin up from the floor.

"Hey, look Kare." Kevin chuckled to Karen, trying to lighten the mood. He then pointed to his and Kenny's black eyes. "Me and Ken are twins now."

Karen giggled, as Kevin picked her up from the floor and kissed her cheek.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, grabbing one of Kevin's hands as they walked out of their house. Kevin knew neither of his younger siblings would want to stay here and look at the destruction. Plus if his mother wouldn't do anything else, she could at least clean up.

"I'm fine, babe." Kevin smirked, using Kenny's pet name. "Are you okay? He got you pretty hard."

Kenny nodded, holding his older brother's hand close.

"You wanna go to Token's? You can hang out with him, Karen can hang out with his little sister and I'll hang out with his older brother."

"Um...can I go to Stan's?" Kenny asked, knowing the atmosphere between himself and Token was kind of awkward. He's pretty sure Token thinks he's racist.

"Sure. We can go too, if you want. I can hang out with Shelly."

"I wanna play with Amber!" Karen cried from Kevin's arms, pouting.

"No, I can go myself. Take her to see Amber and you can hang out with AJ." Kenny smiled.

Kevin looked a bit doubtful. "You sure?"

Kenny nodded. "I'll be fine, I promise."

Kevin smiled back at his little brother and leaned down to kiss his freckled cheek. "Alright, be careful. You can call me if you need anything."

Kenny nodded as they went separate directions. He watched his older brother and little sister leave and waited until they were out of sight for the tears building up in his eyes to fall. He didn't want anyone to see him cry.

Meanwhile, Stan heard a knock at his door.

"Hey, dude!" Stan almost exclaimed after opening it and seeing his best friend.

"Hey, Stan." Kyle smirked, forehead still sweat covered from basketball practice. "What's up?"

"Not much." Stan answered, closing the door after Kyle had walked in. "How was practice?"

"Tiring." The Jew sighed, as both he and Stan moved up the stairs and into the noirette's room. "How's your day been?"

"Full of homework." Stan chuckled as they both sat on his bed.

Kyle groaned. "Do we have a lot? I can't remember..."

"Math, history, lit and I think we're supposed to do at least twenty push-ups for gym."

Kyle chuckled. "Well, at least I've finished the gym homework."

"You can copy mine if you want." Stan smiled, picking up his textbooks from the floor.

Kyle smiled back, though knew he had to say no. Stan may be his best friend, but Kyle had to admit that the noirette wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. Or in other words-not too smart.

"No thanks, dude. I better do it myself or else I might fail."

"Whatever, Kyle. You're a genius."

"Thanks, Stan. Though I don't think I was being much of a genius when I decided to play basketball for the school. I'm too busy all of the time."

"Tell me about it."

Kyle looked over at Stan apologetically. "Sorry, dude."

Stan looked up at him and blushed. "N-no, no! It's fine, Kyle! I just...Kenny was talking about it earlier..."

"Really?"

Stan nodded. "He said he thinks you're working yourself too hard...and that we never spend any time together anymore..."

Kyle looked at Stan's pink face for a minute before moving his arm around his noirette best friend. He hugged Stan. "I'm sorry, Stan. I'll try and make more time for you and Ken. And Cartman too, but don't tell him I said that."

They both chuckled, as Stan hugged him back. "Alright."

Stan then watched as Kyle pulled his backpack off the ground and grabbed out his math homework.

As he did, the ginger asked, "Are you going to the game tomorrow?"

Stan frowned. "No, sorry."

"Why not?"

"I have to go to my doctor. I lost my inhaler."

"Again?"

"Well, until we started having to run in gym, my asthma hasn't been bothering me so I didn't need it as much."

Kyle sighed, a bit irritated. "Well, will you show up to at least one sometime this year?"

Stan nodded. "I will! But I've been busy lately..."

"Yeah, right."

"I have!"

"What about last week?"

"I promised the goths I'd hang out with them."

"And you had to do it Friday night?"

"Jesus Christ, mom, get off my ass."

Kyle chuckled. "Alright, alright. But you have to promise me that you'll show up to one, okay?"

"Of course, dude." Stan smirked, as he watched Kyle write down answers on his math homework so fast it was like there was no thought put into them. "I'll come next week, I promise."

"Good." Kyle smirked and looked over happily at Stan.

He got the strange urge to lean over and kiss the noirette's cheek, though refrained, and almost got angry with himself.

What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself, before noticing Stan had stood and was motioning for Kyle to follow.

That he did and the two of them were then both heading down the stairs.

Stan led Kyle to the couch and the both of them sat down, as Stan started the playstation.

"I should've known." Kyle chuckled, as Stan pushed the green controller into the Jew's hands.

"Whatever, sweaty." Stan chuckled, moving next to Kyle with the blue controller in his hands. "If I have to go to your game, then you have to play video games with me."

Kyle sighed. "Stan, you don't have to go to my game."

"Well I want to. But I also want you to play my new game with me."

"Fine by me." Kyle smirked, as Stan pushed the game disc into the system.

As soon as the title screen popped up, Stan heard the doorbell ring.

The noirette moved to the door and opened it to see Kenny-with a black eye and a tear-stained face.

"Kenny?" Stan grabbed the blonde's hand. "What the hell happened?"

Kenny shook his head. "N-nothing. Um-can I hang out with you for a while?"

"Yeah, sure dude. Are Kevin and Karen with you, too?"

Kenny shook his head. "No, they're at Token's. Kev's hanging out with his older brother and Karen with his little sister."

Stan nodded as he pulled Kenny inside and shut the door.

When Kenny noticed Kyle though, he tried to dry the tears off his face.

"What happened?" Kyle asked, less concerned than Stan.

"Nothing." Kenny tried to smirk though found it difficult.

"Ken, something obviously happened..."

Kenny then forced a smile. "Really Stanny, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Kenny nodded, moving and sitting on the floor.

"You can sit on the couch, dude." Kyle smirked. "I may bark but I don't bite."

"I'm fine." Kenny repeated himself, before pulling his knees to his chest and looking up at the ceiling.

"Well, I'm gonna make you an icepack for your eye, anyway." Stan said, before turning to Kyle. "Can you help me?"

Kyle, fixated on Kenny at the moment, took a moment to respond. "..yeah, sure."

The pair then walked into the kitchen, leaving Kenny alone with his blue eyes still just looking up at what seemed like nothing but a ceiling fan. Little did Stan and Kyle know, Kenny was staring up at what he referred to as a world of his own. His escape.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope you guys liked it! Please review and follow if you did! I'll try and update soon and thank you all again for the lovely reviews! Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3: Married?

A/N: Hey guys! I just realized I haven't update in a while! Sorry, I've been busy ;( Anywho~I don't own South Park! I hope you enjoy!

PS) Hailey is one of my OCS :)

* * *

><p>Chapter 3: Married?<p>

_"Eric, can you come here a moment?" Mrs. Cartman called from the kitchen._

_A thirteen year old Eric slumped down the staircase, sighing as he reached the kitchen. "What's up, mom?"_

_"Eric, you know how I've been seeing Mr. Donovan for a while?"_

_"Yeah." Eric mumbled, rolling his eyes assuming he'd be asked to put on a vest because they were all going to a restaurant for dinner._

_"Well, sweetie, we're getting married!"_

_Eric's eyes widened, as his mother rushed forward to hug him. _

_He then backed away and stared at her like she was insane. "M-married?"_

_"Yep!" Liane beamed. "Isn't that great? You'll have a new stepdad! And your friend Clyde and his sister Hailey will be your step-siblings!"_

_Eric, practically dumbstruck, turned and slumped up the stairs._

_He pushed his bedroom door shut after walking in, barely noticing his eyes were still wide._

_"M-married?" He mumbled again, feeling himself sink to his floor, back against the door._

_He wasn't sure what to feel, though happiness was certainly not on that list. In fact, he was anythin but._

_He was angry, confused, annoyed...but most of all, scared and sad. He didn't want his mom to get married. Then how could they continue their relationship? It had grown stronger over the years and he didn't want douchebag Mr. Donovan to fuck it all up._

_Eric hadn't realized tears had started falling down his face, though as soon as he did, he wiped them off._

_He grabbed his phone from his pocket and called the only person he wanted to talk to in a moment like this._

_He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear._

_"What?" The voice on the other side of the phone was always cruel to him._

_"Kahl..."_

_"What do you want, fatass?"_

_"So...my mom's getting married..."_

_"Oh...well, that's great, dude. Congrats."_

_Eric was silent for a minute before he grew angry. "You stupid Jew."_

_Before could ask what the hell he was talking about, Eric hung up the phone and threw it._

_He then felt tears continue to fall down his face._

That's how Eric remembers one of the worst moments in his life. Now he's fifteen years old and his mother had been married to Mr. Donovan for two years; and Clyde and his older sister Hailey had been his step-siblings.

It had been, and still is, horrendous.

Mr. Donovan had gotten a job as a doctor shortly before he married Liane and was therefore a complete health-nut.

That meant no snacky cakes, no cheesy poofs, no cookies, no soda, no candy, not even any pizza!

Mr. Donovan also doesn't allow Eric and his other siblings to stay up past nine thirty at night and they have to wake up at eight a.m. on the weekends. Their TV time is sorted and limited, meaning each kid in the house gets two hours of TV a day. Eric found it astounding this man hadn't been taken away by child services. Though he knew the only reason he obeyed what his step-father said was to make his mother happy. He didn't want her to have to deal with an unhappy husband.

And if Mr. Donovan wasn't bad enough, Clyde was even worse.

On the slight occasion there was junk food in the house, Clyde would eat it before Eric could even get his hands on it. And he would also _ruin_ the toilets on Saturday morning, as he, Token, Craig, and Tweek went to Chipotle together every Friday night.

His seventeen year old sister Hailey wasn't too bad though. Unless she was in the shower when Eric wanted to take one. He was pretty sure Hailey could spend her life in the shower.

Though Eric could overlook all that shit, if it weren't for the fact that he hardly got any attention from his mom anymore.

She was always so busy dealing with the new job she'd gotten to support all the new family members and when she was home in the evenings, it was always the same. She'd make dinner, the family would eat dinner, she'd clean up, then watch TV, shower, and go to bed. She was like a robot, programmed to do the same thing over and over again.

And when she did have free time, she spent it with Mr. Donovan. That only enraged Eric more. That bastard ruined his once perfect family and household. Nothing would ever be the same again, and he was painfully aware of that.

At the moment, Eric sat in front of the TV watching Honey Boo Boo. He was approaching his second hour of TV now, and Mr. Donovan had just gotten home from his job.

"Hello, Eric." Mr. Donovan smiled, walking into the room.

"Hi..." Eric barely mumbled, as he watched the show.

"What are you watching?"

Eric sighed_. Fucking get out of here, you douchebag!_ He thought. _I don't want you around!_

"Honey Boo Boo." He responded, amazed he hadn't let what he was thinking come out of his mouth.

Mr. Donovan cringed. "That's show a bit trashy, don't you think?"

"Not really." Eric sighed, resisting the urge to turn up the volume of the TV. He knew he wasn't allowed to turn it past twenty.

"Well I think that sort of TV is what's ruining this generation." Mr. Donovan's voice then grew stern. "Please turn it to something more educational."

Eric resisted the urge to chuck the remote at his step-father and then turned it to Nova.

"Thank you."

Mr. Donovan then moved into the kitchen and Eric decided he was going to go to his room. He didn't want to be anywhere near his step-father.

He shut his bedroom door behind himself and grabbed his cellphone.

He called Kenny.

"Hey, Eric." Eric appreciated the fact Kenny didn't call him Cartman, like most of the people at their school did.

"Hey, Ken."

"What's up?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, dude."

"How do you deal with having a shitty dad?"

Eric instantly heard the phone beep repeatedly, signally that Kenny had hung up.

Eric couldn't say he hadn't seen it coming.

The overweight teen then proceeded to call Kyle.

"What do you want, Cartman?"

"Hey Jew."

"What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Not if it's a joke about my religion, fat ass."

"No."

"Then fine. But I swear if it's a joke, I'm never answering calls from you again."

"It's not. So, how do you deal with having a shitty dad?"

"...what most people do or what I do?"

"What you do."

Kyle thought for a minute. "Well, most of the time my dad's not even around. And when he is, he's boning my mom."

Eric cringed. "Sick, dude. Did you really have to tell me that?"

"At least you don't sleep in the room next to theirs."

"Well doesn't it make you feel anything? I mean, if's he's never around..."

"Are you trying to upset me?"

"No, damn it! I just want to know."

"I mean, I guess it kind of sucks. But my dad and I have never been that close, so it doesn't affect me now. But why do you care? You don't even have a dad."

Eric stared at nothing for a minute before responding. "Thanks, dickwad."

"I was just joking."

"That's a real damn funny joke, you kyke."

"Fine. You can get me back with a Jew joke if-"

Kyle was surprised to see Eric had hung up before he'd even finished his sentence.

Eric laid his phone down and soon felt his heart hurt. His mind shifted to the remembrance that he'd killed his own father before even meeting him. When he thought about it, he realized what a messed up kid he really was.

He then thought about the fact that he was still pretty messed up.

With all these negative thoughts buzzing around his mind, he knew there was only one thing that could make him feel better.

The overweight teen then walked to his closet and opened the doors. He moved a pile of old clothes and magazines to find an old cardboard box.

He opened it to find his secret stash. Every junk food imaginable. Chips, candy, cakes, sodas; _no_ fruits or vegetables.

Eric smiled as he sat on the floor and began to unwrap a snacky cake.

As soon as his tongue hit the icing, all the stress, hatred and worry building up inside of him seemed to melt away.

As he ate the cakes and then opened some cheesy poofs, he couldn't think of anything else except for the food he was consuming. He didn't feel bad feelings, he just felt the flavors. Even if they were extra-artificial.

Every bite was like a release.

He refused to work through his problems and rather just stuffed them down farther. He knew he felt better now, though also knew it wouldn't last. Which is why he couldn't stop eating the food.

A handful of chocolate, then a bag of chips, a can of soda, a bag of Skittles, another bag of chips...he found it nearly impossible to stop and refused to until he found the box was empty.

When he saw it was, he sighed and felt his full stomach. He had a smile for the moment, though it didn't last long.

He soon found that the bad thoughts were rushing back. Everything was.

Mr. Donovan, Clyde, his busy mother...he could hear Kyle's voice echoing in the back of his head.

_"You don't even have a dad."_

Eric groaned, remembering another quote. This one from his doctor.

"Eric, you are aware that you're already obese, right? Well, I'm afraid that you are approaching morbidly obese. I really suggest that you start to watch your diet and exercise, honey."

That had been a few months ago, and he's sure that he's gained at least ten pounds since then. Though he wasn't sure. He was too afraid to get on the scales, or even look in the mirror. Kyle's told him so many times that he'd break both the scale and the mirror anyway.

He was beginning to feel all these negative thoughts swimming around in his head again. He felt the knots in his stomach come back, the 'butterflies' fluttering in his stomach, and that sinking feeling, which he hated the worst.

He soon found himself back on his feet. He hid the box back in his closet and then threw on his jacket. He walked down the stairs, seeing Clyde watching Family Guy on the TV. Eric shivered in disgust at the show, before he opened the front door and closed it back once he was outside.

He felt around in his jacket pocket checking for the twenty dollars that he already knew was there. He remembered asking his mom for it, claiming it was for a 'field trip'. It was a load of crap, though it's not like she had time to check.

Eric walked along the sidewalks, shivering and seeing his breath hang in the air. He prayed that he wouldn't see anyone he knew as he didn't want to deal with that. He just wanted to get to the store and back home.

By the time he found the convenience store he was looking for, he was practically out of breath. Though that's not what concerned him at the moment. He focused on one thing and one thing only: food.

He then walked into the store, grabbed a basket by the door and began his search.

He went down all the few isles in the store. He grabbed bags of chips and candy, cans of soda…anything that was unfortunately full of preservatives, sugar, salt, and many more things that contributed to Eric's horribly unhealthy state. In short, he was buying lots of junk food.

As soon as he had the basket full of what he had counted to be 19.56 with tax, Eric moved quickly to the front of the store. He wanted to hurry up and get back home. He didn't want anyone to see what he was consuming in private.

When he'd emptied the basket onto the counter, the cashier gave him a funny look though shrugged and scanned all the items.

"That'll be $19.56, sir." The cashier groaned, sick of her hard day of sitting behind a counter, reading magazines and scanning items every once in a while.

Eric smirked, knowing he was right. He then handed her the money and tapped his foot impatiently until she handed back his change, receipt, and bags of junk.

"Thanks." Eric mumbled, before grabbing his things and leaving the store in a hurry.

He wanted to sprint home, though was afraid to knowing he was in such bad shape. He did, however, speed-walk as fast as he could and still ended up breaking a sweat. In fact, by the time he was home he was heaving and trying to keep his breath.

He frantically searched his pocket for his keys to the house, though as he pulled them out of his pocket, he heard Butters call behind him.

"Hey, Eric!" his chipper voice was loud, though Eric was going to pretend he didn't hear the blonde.

The overweight teen then proceeded to quickly unlock and open the door, pull his bags inside and quickly close the door behind himself. He saw that Hailey was now enjoying her TV time.

He prayed that no one would question his bags as he walked up the stairs and into his room. Luckily, no one did and he was able to get into his room, lock the door and sigh in content once he knew he was safe.

Eric then opened the closet and got out the box again. He emptied the contents of the plastic bags into the cardboard boxes, for the next time he was completely and utterly overwhelmed with his thoughts. It was unfortunately an extremely common practice of his. Though he knew he wasn't going to stop. Not matter _what _it was doing to his health.

He then covered the box with the jackets and old clothes, before closing the closet doors. He then sat on his bed with a little smile of relief and a sigh that matched it. Though it lasted just a second, before he heard a pebble hit his window and he almost fell off the bed with a mini-heart attack.

"Jesus Christ…" he sighed, getting up and walking to the window, annoyed.

He opened it and saw a smiling Butters looking up at him. "Hey!"

Eric sighed, for some reason in relief. He didn't know who he expected it to be. Maybe Kyle. "Hey, Butters."

"Didn't you hear me a second ago? When you were unlocking your door?"

Eric shook his head to lie. "No. Sorry, dude."

"Oh, well it's okay. Do you wanna go see a movie?"

Eric hesitated, though realized going to the movies was an excuse to buy popcorn. "Yeah, sure."

"Awesome!"

Eric then walked out of the house and joined Butters to walk to the movies theater for a good time. Though all during the walk and the movie, the only thing on his mind was food.

Only food.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm beginning to love Eric :) Anywho~I hope you guys liked this chapter! Please review and follow if you did! I love you guys!


	4. Chapter 4: Cows vs Greeley

A/N: Hey guys! Happy November! :) I hope that everyone had a great Halloween full of candy! I thought I'd start off the chilly month of November with a new chapter! So without further ado~I don't own South Park; enjoy!

PS. A.J. is one of my OCs :)

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: Cows vs. Greeley<p>

The buzzer was about to go off.

Kyle ran down the court, the basketball hitting the floor and back against his hand again and again. He was dribbling and running as fast as he could; he could hear the other player's shoes squeaking on the floor behind him.

He could hear people counting down as he approached the basket.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

The crowd yelled out "One!"; Kyle jumped and slammed the ball into the hoop, breaking the tie between them and the team from Greeley.

"And the South Park Cows win! Thirty to twenty eight!"

Kyle let a smile break out across his face, as the rest of the Cows crowded around him.

"Way to go, Kyle!" Token cheered, as the team lifted the ginger up.

They all chanted his name, "Kyle! Kyle!". They carried him into the locker room and dumped him onto the bench.

Kyle caught his breath, downing all the water left in his bottle, still hardly unaware that they'd won.

The rest of the team continued to cheer and came by to give high-fives and compliments to Kyle.

"Great job, dude!"

"Awesome!"

"We couldn't ask for a better player!"

Kyle beamed, as their coach walked in. A smug smirk was on his face.

"Great job guys!" The coach winked at Kyle. "You especially, champ! Keep it up and you might just get a scholarship!"

Kyle couldn't be happier. He'd never gotten this much praise at once for his playing and it was amazing.

After a few more compliments and high-fives, Token nudged him and told him that he needed to get home. Kyle agreed, knowing that if he wasn't home soon his mother would be furious.

Token and Kyle then walked out into the parking lot, finding Token's older brother, A.J., waiting in his old pickup truck.

They got in, buckled up, and before he knew it, the car pulled into the Broflovski's driveway. Kyle thanked A.J., grabbing his things before shutting the car door and watching them drive away.

The Jew was about to head inside, worried that it was later than he thought it was, though he heard his name being called.

"Kyle!"

He looked behind himself to see Stan walking towards him.

"Hey, Stan."

"Hey, dude." Stan smirked. "How was the game?"

"We won, dude!" Kyle smirked.

"I know, Kenny told me." Stan chuckled, a little pink tint of his cheeks. "He also said you scored the winning goal."

Kyle smirked sheepishly. "Well..."

"Don't deny it, because I already know it's true, dude. You're the best basketball player I've ever seen!"

"Thanks, dude."

"You bet."

"Hey!" They both looked to see Shelly, who was walking home from the McCormick house. "Come on dork, it's time for dinner!"

Stan sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Duh." Kyle smirked, punching Stan's shoulder lightly.

Stan chuckled and before he ran off to join Shelly, he smiled and said, "Congrats again, Kyle!"

"Thanks, dude."

Stan then joined his sister and they walked to their own house as Kyle opened the door to his own.

"I'm home!" He called, wiping his clean shoes on the mat just in case.

"Kyle!" His mother called from the kitchen. "Come in here!"

"Hey, mom." Kyle smiled, looking at the mounds of food she had prepared. "Guess what?"

"Kyle, where have you been?" She refused to answer his question before she got the answer to her own.

"At the game, mom."

"That ended at five o'clock, Kyle!"

"It's only six," he looked at the clock. "Thirty..."

"Well why did it take so long for you to get home?"

"I stayed after the game because the guys wanted to talk. And I got home a while ago but Stan wanted to talk."

"Well they can wait to talk to you at school on Monday, can't they?"

"What's the big deal? I-"

"Because I could use some help with the cooking and cleaning! Your father stays out late enough at the bar, and I can't do everything myself!"

Kyle tried his best not to growl. "Well excuse me for actually trying to live my life!"

He then turned to go up the stairs and to his room before the argument could get any worse.

He heard his mom call after him, but he didn't care. If she was out to ruin his mood, then he didn't want to be around her.

He walked into his room and checked his phone to see many texts about how he had 'won the game for the team', and that he was a 'superstar'.

Kyle knew these compliments should cheer him up and make him ecstatic, and normally they would, though not now.

He hated that his mom tried to take away his happiness just for her own selfish reasons. Then he realized she'd probably had a hard day though, and felt guilty for calling her selfish. Though at the same time he had a great day and all his mom did was stay at home anyway, so she really wouldn't have had a hard day.

Nonetheless, Kyle felt like shit. It seemed he could never live up to his parent's standards. Or at least his mother's. Nowadays it seemed like his dad was never even around. He was always too busy, whether it be with work or with his drinking buddies. Maybe that's why his mom always seemed to be in a bad mood…

The more he thought, the angrier he was with himself. He shouldn't have stomped off when his mom had said she needed help. He should've apologized and helped her. And yesterday he should've spent time with her rather than studying. She was probably lonely. And with Ike gone on a school field trip for the past few days, she was lonelier than ever.

Kyle sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, angry at himself. His mind was getting so fucked up as he started regretting everything he'd done that week, excluding the goal he'd made at the end of the game an hour ago.

He ran a hand through his still sweaty curls and his gaze wandered over to his nightstand, where he knew what he wanted most right now was there.

He knew he shouldn't, though by the time he thought of that, his door was already locked and the drawer was already open.

He pulled out a shoebox which he knew was filled with various sorts of food he had bought in secret at the dollar store. He took the box and an old cup of water and moved into the bathroom connected to his room, locking the door behind himself.

He then sat on the bathroom's floor and began to stuff his face with the various sorts of food he had. He wasn't even acknowledging the food as he ate it. He'd eat chocolate, cheese-flavored chips and then drink water, not even realizing the nasty taste it left in his mouth. Because wasn't doing this for the food.

After eating until he felt stuffed to the point his stomach was in pain and he let out a few hiccups, before he then filled the now empty cup to the brim with tap water and drink it all in a large gulp.

He then looked down at the toilet and part of him wanted to smile while the other part wanted to cry. But he knew he wanted this, and he was going to do it. Right now, he honestly didn't give a shit about the consequences. He knows what happens if you're bulimic.

He leaned over it, not before he wet two of his fingers with tap water, and then guided them to his mouth. He pushed them back as far as he could, scraping the top of his hand with his teeth, before he gagged. He pushed them back again and gagged again, feeling his heartbeat speed up. He pushed back once again, feeling the chewed up mess come up his throat and down into the toilet; and not to mention coating his hand and dropping onto the floor.

He sighed and wet the two fingers again in the sink water, before he began to stick his fingers back down his throat again. It seemed like such a useless cycle, but he'd become addicted. He couldn't stop.

The vomit came up again. It stung his throat as it did and he felt his heart pound in his chest. He felt a little shiver go up his back, as he moved his hand to the sink again. He wet the two fingers and then moved them back down his throat.

He did it another time, and then another, and then the vomit came up a fourth or fifth, maybe sixth time. He'd already lost count. He looked down at the regurgitated mess before him and his eyes found a glob of blood. That meant he could stop.

He leaned his head back and sighed in relief, from both the purging and from knowing it was over and he didn't gain much, if anything.

He then wiped up the vomit that had splattered onto the floor, washed out his mouth with water and mouthwash, flushed the toilet, sprayed around some room freshener and then washed his hands. He looked up in the mirror and played with the sides of his face. They were beginning to bulge a bit*. He sighed before he left the bathroom and walked back to his room.

He sat on his bed and let his eyes drift to the blank ceiling in bliss. For a split second, he felt wonderful and all the bad feelings had just been flushed down the toilet. Though as soon as it wore away, he sighed and laid his tired head back. He shut his heavy eyes and tried to ignore the sound of his rapidly beating heart in his ears.

* * *

><p>AN: *bulimia chipmunk cheeks-look it up on Google if you want to know more* I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please follow and review if you did! Love you guys!


	5. Chapter 5: Ana

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's taken so long for this update! I recently fell in love with Big Hero 6, so some stories for that fandom may be appearing from me soon, hehe. But-I haven't forgotten about this story, nor will I! (Hopefully). Anywho~I don't own South Park, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: Ana<p>

"Congrats again, Kyle!"

"Thanks, dude." Kyle responded, before turning and walking to the front door of his house.

Stan joined Shelly, who was at the front of the Broflovski's driveway.

"Hey, kid." she smirked down at him, as Stan nonchalantly grabbed her hand like he did when he was younger.

"Hey." Stan smirked as well, as they turned into their own driveway. "What's up?"

"Not much."

"What were you and Kenny's brother up to?"

"Homework, complaining...you know, the usual teenage shit."

"Oh, _really_? You _have_ gone over there after school pretty often lately..."

Shelly glared at her brother. "I'm sure I've told you a hundred times that I'm dating A.J. and I don't like Kevin like _that_. He's practically a second brother to me at this point."

"Alright, alright. Just checking." Stan laughed, as Shelly took her hand away from Stan and used it to open the door.

"What did you do with _Kyle_?" Shelly asked, shutting the door after Stan walked in.

Stan narrowed his eyes. He sometimes regretted telling her that he thought he may have a crush on Kyle, though knew she wouldn't tell anyone. After Shelly entered high school, she got much more mature and chill about most everything. Especially since she and her group of friends would smoke weed every now and again.

"Not much. He had just gotten home from a game, so we only talked for a few minutes."

"Oh," Shelly sighed, as she took off her jacket and her gloves. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your little moment."

Stan scoffed and pushed her softly, his face turning pink. "Shut up, Shel..."

She giggled, before the two of them then walked into the kitchen and looked to see their mom and dad fixing dinner.

Well, Sharon was fixing dinner whilst Randy, arms crossed and angry, drank a gluten-free beer and watched his wife throw away the crème fraiche.

"Hey kids." Sharon smiled a half-hearted smile, before setting their plates in their spots. "Stanley, go take off your coat."

Stan looked at her, raising a noirette brow. "Why? I'm cold."

"I'll turn up the heat. Just go take off your coat."

Stan groaned and pushed himself out of his chair, up to his room.

He grumbled quietly. "This is pointless. Why the hell do I have to off my coat if I'm cold? Whatever, she has to pay for medicine if I catch a cold in this fucking igloo."

Stan then pushed the door to his room open and stripped from his jacket. He tossed it on his bed and looked in the mirror.

He frowned and began to play with his blue shirt, fixing all the creases and smoothing it out just to pinch at it and pull it up some.

He cringed, before going to his closet and finding a sweater. A year ago it fit, though it was now much too big. Stan didn't know how, though he slid on the oversized piece of clothing and seemed more content when he looked in the mirror.

He was about to head back downstairs, though he heard his phone buzz.

He grabbed it from his back pocket to see a text from Craig.

_Hey man._

_What's up?_

_Not much. You?_

_Dinner time..._

_Oh..._

_What do I do?_

_Any excuses?_

_We always eat together on Friday nights, no excuses._

_Why?_

_Mom says it make a family stronger, or some shit._

_Wow._

_Ikr. So what do I do?_

_You sure you cant get out of it?_

_Nope._

_Then cut up your food really small, drink lots of water and tell them you've got homework to do, so you have to finish fast. Wait until they aren't paying attention to take ur dishes 2 the sink._

_K thanx._

_No prob dude. Stay strong._

_U 2._

Stan smirked, happy he had someone to talk to when he needed advice.

"Stanley!" Sharon called from downstairs.

Stan then groaned before he stuck his phone back in his pocket and then hurried down the stairs.

"Sit down and eat your dinner, Stan."

Stan nodded, before sitting in his spot next to his mother.

Without another word, the rest of the Marsh family dug into their dinner.

Stan, however, took a sip or two of water before even looking at the meal. When he did acknowledge the steak, potatoes and green beans before him, he sighed.

He picked up his fork and let himself nonchalantly eat the vegetables, given that the half cup serving of greens wasn't too bad.

He then looked over the rest of the meal. The steak was tender and juicy; the potatoes were creamy and shining with butter.

Though in Stan's mind, he didn't see the food. He just saw calories. Calories he did not want to consume.

He then took Craig's advice, beginning to cut up the food into tiny bits whilst Sharon tried to spark a conversation.

"So, how was everyone's day?" She asked, faking a cheery voice.

The other Marshes all mumbled, "Okay..." very quietly. Another long silence then set in, though Sharon wasn't done trying.

"Anyone have anything to do after dinner? We could sit down and watch a movie together if not."

Shelly started the excuses. "Sorry, mom. Kevin and I have to finish a project for biology."

Randy chimed in. "The guys want me at the bar tonight, Sharon."

"And I've got homework-" Stan started, though he stopped upon noticing his mother's upset face. He knew she didn't want to be alone tonight. "-but after I finish it, I'll watch a movie with you."

"Really?" Sharon asked, smiling as her son nodded. "Thank you, Stan."

Stan smiled and waited for their family to change the subject before he stood quickly with his napkin on his still full plate.

He took it back into the kitchen, dumped out the food and covered it with a napkin or two, and then washed the plate in the sink.

"I'm gonna start my homework." He said as he walked back to the table.

"Okay, honey." Sharon sighed, as Shelly and Randy both said goodbye after finishing their food.

Stan then hopped weightlessly up the stairs, feeling a bit winded after reaching the top. He wasn't really in bad shape, though the malnourishment and starving had taken a toll on his heart and the complications were beginning to make even something like getting up the stairs uncomfortable and hard.

Stan took in a deep breath and walked into his room, grabbing his phone to send a thank you text to Craig.

Thanks, dude. It worked.

No prob. I figured it would.

He then tossed his phone down on his bed and stood in front of the mirror again. He hated the reflection.

No. 'Hated' wasn't even strong enough a word. Despised…loathed…there wasn't a word strong enough to describe the pure disgust he felt for himself and especially his body.

He felt horrid. Repulsive. He believed he was too foul to be looked at and hated having to be in public, really for other's wellbeing. He didn't want anyone to have to get even a glance of him. He was afraid they might throw up. Or maybe they would banish him again.

He then remembered that he wouldn't have to worry about any of this too much longer. Ana, the nickname he gave his non-diagnosed disorder, was here to help.

"_No need to worry, love." _Her non-existent voice cooed. _"I'll make you absolutely perfect for that crush of yours."_

Stan nodded to the demon in his head, even though she'd been saying that for at least a year now. He'd dropped exactly forty-six pounds and still was nowhere near satisfied.

His goal weight? Maybe ninety, or possibly eighty pounds. He didn't know. And it really was never up to Stan anyway-his goal weight was decided by Ana. Though it would most likely be easier to follow if she didn't constantly change it. First it was five pounds…then ten…then twenty…every pound lost was practically orgasmic for Stan. He didn't even know why he was obsessed with his weight-maybe because his mother was obsessive over hers. Like his father, Stan was rather impressionable. He followed whatever everyone else was doing, and this was what most girls are doing, right? That's what he believed. And if everyone else is doing it, then there's absolutely no harm.

_Right? _Stan thought to himself, beginning to doubt his theory.

"_Right." _Ana stated proudly, making sure Stan heard her already loud voice. "_No harm whatsoever, love."_

* * *

><p>AN: I hope you guys liked it! If you did, please review and follow! Love you guys!


	6. Chapter 6: White Lies

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this update took so long, my teachers have been piling work on my fellow students and I. Though the last day before CHristmas break is tomorrow and I'm done with all my project :) Hopefully I can update some during the break ;) Anywho~I don't own South Park, enjoy!

**PS: In this chapter, I am in no way trying to glorify any mental illness included. Anything I interpreted wrongly, I apologize. I'm basing my knowledge off of Dr. Phil, research, teenage novels and TV shows, and posts from Instagram, to be honest. I'm not trying to offend anyone of course, and if you are suffering with a mental illness, I'm sorry. I hope you can get help and I want to let you know you are loved-though if no one else is willing to say it, I love you :)**

Anywho~enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: White Lies<p>

Kenny swayed on the stage, microphone in both hands. The tune played all around him as his mouth opened wide to hold a high cord. He loved singing.

Absolutley loved it.

Nothing could calm his nerves better, cure his boredom, or make him happier than singing. It was like a release-a soulful, lyrical release of words that connected to the music just right.

It was even better when Kevin sang with him.

He and his big brother could easily go up onto the stage together. Kevin's hand would rub Kenny's back to encourage his little brother and then they'd grabbed the microphones and open their mouths to let the words flow.

"Come on, kid." Kevin smirked, an arm around his little brother. "Let's make these drunk idiots swoon."

It was true, they were only able to sing in an old bar that sat beside Tom's Rhinoplasty. They did, however, get paid. It was a minuscule payment, though it was something; and whatever they made in the bar they made sure to hide from their parents. Well, mostly their father. They knew he would do anything to get another drink, another cigarette or another hit of whatever drug he was on at the moment.

"You ready little bro?" Kevin had asked, probably an hour or two ago. Kenny often lost track of time while singing and he and his brother could easily spend an entire day behind the microphone. They wouldn't even realize it.

Kenny had nodded, grabbing absentmindedly at his brother's hand as they stepped onto the stage. Drunk cheers filled the room, given that he, Kevin and the rest of the older brother's friends were considered regular singers at the bar.

Now both Kenny and Kevin stood, microphones in one hand and open smiles on both their faces as they sang their parts of _Whites Lies_ by Odesza and Jenni Potts.

_"You take me away-"_ Kevin sang.

_"Faces, faces, they fade-"_ Kenny sang back.

_"Love, love, love stays-"_

_"Here, here, I'll take you-"_

They then began to sing together, their southern voices blending together in blissful harmony.

_"Cross my heart and hope to die, if you ever catch me in a white lie._

_I lay me down, in the tall grass. Tangled in the weeds, in my messy bed-"_

Kevin took a moment to dance in his wordless chorus, dancing along with the lovely chords played. The older brother even went as far as taking Kenny's small, cold hand and spinning his little brother around as Kenny sang the next words.

_"If you come, and you come. Come and come and, if you, if you-"_

The brothers then looked at each other smiling, and twirling around happily with the music. Their fingers were intertwined and they continued to dance like they were high until being pushed to the side by Kevin's friends, Shelly and A.J., as they were going to sing the second half of the song.

The Southern brothers then stepped down from the stage and Kevin picked up the blonde and swung hin around. "You were great, kiddo!"

Kenny smiled, his arms on his big brother's shoulders. "You were too."

"Hey, guys." One of the bartenders smirked as she walked over to the McCormick brothers with a fistful of crumbled bills. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Kevin smirked, winking at the girl as he took the money and stuffed it in his pocket.

She giggled in turn and gave a flirtacious wave as she walked away.

Kenny smirked, grabbing his brother's warm hand. "You know, I think that girl's got a crush on you."

"Wow, that's great." Kevin rolled his eyes, putting an arm around his little brother. "I don't have any interest in dating bartending skanks."

"Aw, you're mean." Kenny fussed, as Kevin started guiding him out of the bar after waving to his friends.

"Come on, Ken, let's get out of here before people start screwing in the bathrooms and then getting more drunk because they regret it."

The little brother chuckled as he and his brother stepped out of the bar Said blonde then felt the cold bite at his skin. He had forgotten his jacket at home and was only wearing an old, stained tee shirt.

Kenny shivered, hugging his arms around his body in a chill.

Kevin noticed and proceeded to take off his own jacket, revealing his thin Modestep t-shirt, and placed it on Kenny's tiny frame. At this, the blonde looked up and was about to return the coat before Kevin stopped him.

"No, you wear it."

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. Don't be stubborn, just wear the damn thing." Kevin chuckled, rubbing Kenny's back.

Said blonde sighed, swinging his and his brother's hands back and forth. "Fine."

Kevin chuckled, before the pair soon turned into their driveway, pulling Kenny along with him. He took a key from his wallet and unlocked the door, pushing it open and letting Kenny walk in before himself. He then shut the door and looked around, hoping his parents weren't at home. Kevin always got nervous when Karen was left alone with his parents.

"Karen?" Kenny called, scanning the living room and kitchen finding no one.

"What?" She called back, stepping out of her room with her doll in her arms.

"You okay?" Kevin asked, looking through the other rooms for his parents.

"Yeah. Mom and Daddy went out somewhere and said they wouldn't be back 'til late."

"Pfft." Kenny sneered. Somewhere-that meant either the bar or a crackhouse.

Kevin agreed with his 'pfft' and joined his little brother on the living room couch as Karen walked back into her room.

"Like they've got spare money for that..." Kenny sighed, playing with a strand of his hair. "Or really any money for that matter."

"Hm?" Kevin asked, looking over at his annoyed brother.

"They shouldn't be wasting money on drugs and alcohol." The blonde sighed. "I mean, I know those things are addictive, but I wish they'd spend the money on rehab instead. It's like they've got no interest in our needs and how their behavior is effecting us."

Kevin nodded, standing from the couch and pulling Kenny up from it as well. "I know, kiddo. Come on."

Kenny followed his older brother out of the house, shutting the door behind himself, and then they both stopped to sit on the steps.

Kevin then pulled from his pocket a pack of cigarettes he'd snatched from their mother's purse, along with an old lighter. He pulled one out of the package and lit it before moving it towards his little brother.

"Want one?"

Kenny wondered for a moment if it would make him a hypocrite if he chose to smoke the cigarette, though realizing Kevin probably didn't even know what a hypocrite was, he took the cancer stick and breathed in a deep breath of smoke before letting it out. He hated to admit that he was rather skilled in the art of cigarette smoking. He then wondered if that made him an expert on the path to getting lung cancer as well, before brushing that thought away as well. He had enough to worry about right now, anyway.

"Thanks." The blonde sighed, leaning into his older brother who had a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, lazily but firmly.

"You bet, babe." Kevin mumbled, breathing in smoke and letting it out in a single huff. "You think mom's blowin' through her pay check?"

Kenny let out a breath of smoke. "Dad's pro'ly wastin' more of it."

"Yeah."

For a lot of moments the pair sat in a smoky silence, only hearing the sounds of a cat mewing angrily at another from across the street.

Finally, Kevin stood, dropping and stepping on his cigarette before turning to walk into the house. "You comin' in?"

"In a minute..." Kenny sighed, still holding his cigarette in his fingers.

Kevin nodded, shutting the door behind himself and leaving Kenny out in the cold.

Said blonde, who was still sporting his older brother's jacket, breathed in another breath of smoke feeling himself tense a bit as he looked to see a figure in the distance.

"What is that?" Kenny mumbled to himself, dropping his shortened cigarette and rubbing it out under his worn boots.

The figure was nothing but a shadow, though it seemed to be walking towards him. It was slow, but nonetheless, it began to freak out the blonde.

Kenny stood and moved his hands up to rub his eyes, hoping that the figure would just dissapear. Though he then moved his cold and dry hands down, only to see the figure was right in front of him. He swear he heard it scream.

The blonde's blue orbs widened in fear and he let out a yelp as he began to see other shadowed creatures crawling towards him, each of them groaning or taunting him. _"You're don't deserve to be here." "You've messed everything up." "Get away from this world, no one wants you here."_

Along with these voices, he could hear a bloodcurdling scream echoing in the back of his mind and running footsteps on pavement played like a drum in his ears.

Kenny was suddenly overwhelmed, all he could do was yell again before turning and running into his house.

His now teary eyes saw the figures turn into what looked like corpses, scattered and rotting before him. The scream got louder and louder, and the voices chanted a little song with only one word repeated for lyrics: _"Cut...cut...cut..."_

As the demons surrounded him, he moved his hands over his head and fell to his knees, bawling. He didn't know what else to do.

That is, until the demons sang louder. _"Cut...cut...cut..."_

Maybe that will make them leave...That's the best his brain could comprehend in a moment like this.

The blood-spattered corpses began to laugh at him as he began to sprint to his and Kevin's shared room. The demons followed, as did the scream which only grew louder in volume.

He began to hear another scream, this one of a male child. _"No! Stop! No!"_

It sounded like himself, though Kenny didn't let himself realize as he pushed the door open to his room, startling Kevin who sat on the bed with a book in his hand.

"Hey," Kevin had a little smirk on his face, though it quickly faded when he saw his little brother's teary face. "Whoa-what happened?"

"They won't stop!" Kenny cried, covering his ears. The little boy's screams turned into sobs of protest and Kenny wanted nothing more than for it to go away.

"What?" Kevin asked, moving from the bed to his little brother. He tried to put a hand on Kenny's shoulder, though the blonde swatted it away.

"Don't touch me!" He screamed, pulling at his hair angrily.

"Ken-" Kevin wanted to calm him down, though Kenny wanted nothing to do with his big brother at the moment.

"Get out! Now!"

"Kenny, tell me what's wrong!" Kevin pressed, looking down sternly but frightened at the blonde.

"Get out now!" Kenny screamed, looking up at Kevin with only rage in his eyes. Rage and fear, as the demons swarmed around him. They were screaming even louder than the blonde.

"Kenny-"

_"Now!"_

Kenny then pushed his older brother away, out of the room, and before Kevin could get back in, Kenny locked the door and ran to his bed.

He fell to his knees and grabbed an old, tattered shoe box that sat under a torn shirt.

Kenny opened the box and grabbed the metal blades from it, not wasting a moment before pushing the sharp tool into his pale flesh.

Kenny cried out, relieved by this somehow. It stung and burned, though made him feel better.

He cut into the flesh again, feeling blood begin to drip down his arm and stain the already nasty carpet under his knees.

The blonde cried happily as he felt his built-up stress pour out. He wanted to say the same about the demons, although they were still about.

_"Cut...cut...cut..."_ They still sang, quieter but still there.

Kenny continued to cut into his cold skin, making sure to move Kevin's jacket out of the way so the blade didn't cut it and so the blood wouldn't stain it.

The blonde still cried, both relieved, scared, sad and happy all at once. All the mixed emotions kept building stress however, which led him to cut again. This cycle seemed just too unhealthy to keep living through. Though this was so prevalent.

As Kenny cut, he sliced open an old scar that had began to heal.

He felt blood rush out of his arms and his better judgement was beginning to plead for him to stop, however the voice kept singing. _"Cut...cut...cut..."_

And that's what Kenny did, a small and sadistic smile stuck on his face. He was barely able to breathe as he began to cut down his leg rather than his arm. He was running out of room.

All the while, Kevin pounded on the door, begging his little brother to open it.

* * *

><p>AN: Wow, I really love the McCormicks-it seems the more I love something, the more I make them hurt...Anywho~I hope you guys liked this chapter! Please review and follow if you did! I'll try and update soon! I love you guys!


End file.
